


Winter

by earthtoalley



Series: 30 Days of Writing [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-06
Updated: 2013-06-06
Packaged: 2017-12-14 03:45:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/832326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earthtoalley/pseuds/earthtoalley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Adam watched the soft, white powder trickle down past the window of the hunting cabin he and Michael had rented. His eyes followed each flake as it made its descent from the heavens before getting lost in the thick blanket of snow that had fallen before it."</p>
<p>Drabble for the 30 Days of Writing meme. Prompt 8: Winter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Winter

Adam watched the soft, white powder trickle down past the window of the hunting cabin he and Michael had rented. His eyes followed each flake as it made its descent from the heavens before getting lost in the thick blanket of snow that had fallen before it. It was getting dark out, the sky hesitantly drifting into an inky black as night fell upon the sleepy little town up in the mountains he and the archangel had fled to.

He could hear Michael breathing somewhere in the room behind him, but the stillness of the archangel made him hard to place. He had gotten used to it now, but Michael’s statuesque behaviour had unsettled him a little, at first. The way he just stood or sat perfectly still when he had nothing to do, as if he were a robot that had powered down while waiting for further instruction.

Michael himself was sat on the small wood-frame sofa that sat in the middle of the room, the obligatory stereotypical bearskin rug laid out on the floor in front of it. The archangel had found it a little distasteful, but he hadn’t shared his opinion as he had watched Adam look around, commenting on the rustic charm of the place. Truth be told, Michael didn’t care much for the aesthetic of the place. He had just wanted to take Adam somewhere quiet and away from everything.

He glanced at the human, who stood silently staring out of the window, an action he had come to associate with sadness in the human. He hadn’t intended to make Adam feel sorrow by bringing him here. He had intended completely the opposite.

Adam heard Michael get to his feet, but he didn’t move his gaze from the gentle white flakes filtering through the air. He heard Michael start to walk towards him, and soon enough the archangel’s arms had wound around his waist, a soft, gentle kiss pressed against his neck. Adam sunk into him a little, his hand on top of Michael’s.

“Are you sad?” Michael asked after a while, his burning curiosity getting the better of him as he followed Adam’s gaze out of the window.

Adam turned his head slightly, glancing back at the archangel. “No,” he said, smiling faintly, “I’m happy.”

And truly, Adam _was_ happy, but the snowfall had brought with it a tinge of sadness. As he had stood watching the snow, he had remembered the times back in Windom, when he and his mother would make snowmen in the front yard before disappearing back into the comforting warmth of their house for some hot chocolate – something Adam hadn’t done since her death.

Adam missed his mother more than he liked to admit. Kate Milligan had been his everything, and then she had been taken away from him, not once but twice. First when the ghouls had killed and eaten her, and again when Zachariah had resurrected him and torn him away from heaven and the endless memories of his mother.

“Your silence would suggest otherwise,” Michael commented, and Adam narrowly resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

“I can’t be happy and quiet at the same time?”

He gave into the urge to roll his eyes that time as Michael simply chuckled in response. Adam pulled out of the archangel’s grip, and Michael watched in confusion as the human made his way toward the front door of the small cabin, shrugging on his coat and wrapping a scarf around his neck.

“It’s time we made a snowman.”


End file.
